The Making Of
by drinktea
Summary: Serah decides to help Noel not only recall his old memories, but to help him make new ones. Noel comes to find that he wouldn't want it any other way. In-game. Noel/Serah.


**A/n:** Here's another one that was sitting on my hard drive for a while. This was actually supposed to end up as a tragedy! Noel and Serah had other plans, though, and the story came out like this. As always, I hope you enjoy this, and reviews are kindly appreciated. Thank you for reading!

* * *

><p>"Hey, Noel?"<p>

Noel looked from the campfire to Serah, the flames casting her in orange light. "Yeah?"

"You mentioned earlier that you're missing some of your memories," she said, hand at her chin. "What do you think could help you remember?"

He paused. She had been pretty quiet this evening - was this what she was thinking about the whole time? In any case, it was clear that Serah had given this more thought than he. Hm. He rotated their dinner over the fire. "I'm not sure. My memory is probably foggy because the timeline is distorted, though-"

Serah's eyes widened, and her fist landed in her hand - _got it_. "Which means that by restoring the timeline, we can fix your memory," she concluded quickly, and happily too, judging by her elated smile.

Seeing her smile brought a grin to his face. She was so... positive. "Yeah, sounds right," he agreed.

"That's it, then. We'll keep on resolving paradoxes and you'll regain your memories." She nodded determinedly into the firelight.

"Sure," he said, moving to once again stare into the fire alongside her. A thought wormed its way into his brain right then though, and he voiced it absently, "They might not be the best memories."

She turned her gaze on him.

He touched the nape of his neck. "What I mean is, they might not be happy memories. They probably aren't, actually." He discreetly gulped, knowing he'd ruined the moment.

"They're still yours, though," she said quietly.

He looked to her again. She was looking back, which he hadn't expected. The flickering firelight illuminated her face in ways he hadn't seen yet.

"If I didn't have my memories, I'd feel... adrift," she confessed.

His spine stiffened, readying himself for the pity that was certain to pour forth from Serah. "I'll get my memories back," he managed to say, trying to stem the tide. He leant forward, rotated the roasting carcass again even though he didn't need to.

"Oh, I know," she said, tone lighter, throwing him off. No sympathy, then? He didn't know if he should be relieved or not. But then Serah was smiling again, and it lit her up like nothing else. "But in the meantime, we should create some new memories for you, don't you think?"

He made a sweeping gesture. "Isn't that what we're already doing?" he laughed.

Her smile turned slight, just a lift of the lips. She shook her head once, firmly. "Different memories. Memories that aren't connected to this journey. Ones that can stand alone."

Memories that stand alone, huh? He blinked. He could question this, or he could take it as it came. "I'd like that," he told her.

Happy with his answer, she flashed him a grin. She reached forward with a slender arm and stirred the broth, took a taste with her finger. She nodded at the pot. "Let's start right now."

He quirked a brow. "And how would we do that?"

She cradled her chin in her hands. "That's my new stew. Take a taste."

He did. "That's memorable, alright," he joked.

She promptly scoffed.

He gave her his winning smile.

* * *

><p>"Here," she said excitedly, passing him a cylinder upon which several spheres were balanced.<p>

He eyed it with uncertainty. "What is this?"

The vendor piped up, "Only the best ice cream in the city, young man! Rest assured, you won't find a better scoop for miles!"

Serah glanced behind her to where Noel was gripping the cone. "That one's for Mog. You pick your flavour," she told him, waving him up to the display case.

Noel handed the ice cream off to their moogle companion, who happily accepted it. Then he crossed his arms, took a few steps forward and looked down through the glass.

Serah stepped closer, touching her shoulder to his arm. "Do you like any of the flavours?"

He continued to analyze the tubs of assorted ice creams. They were labelled with weird words that he'd never read before - _cookie dough, rocky road, mint chocolate chip_. He transferred his weight between his feet, back and forth. "I'm not sure," he answered. "What's good?"

Serah's answer was immediate. "I like strawberry, vanilla, cookie dough, chocolate caramel-"

Noel looked over at her, raising his eyebrows.

She shrugged, smiling shamelessly. "I like ice cream," she laughed, "I thought I'd share it with you."

At her words, he felt her smile start to cross over to his own face. "Okay then," he said, casting another glance over at the display case. "That one," he chose, inspired, pointing at the most daring one - the bright green with little blocks of brown.

"I'll take vanilla," Serah told the employee.

The vendor got to work quickly, handing them their cones and ringing up their purchase. "Free, for the moogle," he told them, winking at Mog over their heads. Mog let out an elated _kupo! _and dug into his own cone.

After they had paid, Serah took a seat at one of the tables outside the shop. Noel ducked the striped parasol and sat across from her. It felt maybe a little weird to be holding a dessert in his calloused hands. He stared down at it, wondering just how you ate something like this.

Then he noticed that Serah had locked her gaze on him. He widened his eyes in response. She lifted her eyebrows. She wasn't going to start eating if he didn't, huh? Well then...

He raised the ice cream to his mouth and took a big bite. It melted quickly, sweet and cold on his tongue. Wow. He licked the excess from his lips.

Serah watched him with a singular pleasure. "Good?" she questioned, the smile in her voice.

"Very," he answered, going for another bite.

He heard her laugh, "I'm glad!"

He looked up from his cone to respond, mouth pulled up at a corner. He saw her licking her cone delicately and his half-smile grew more pronounced. "Is that how I'm supposed to eat this?"

She looked at him over her ice cream, tongue still lapping at her dessert. Her eye contact framed this memory in his mind perfectly. There could have been a quiet _click_, a picture taken right then.

She replied, "It's how I eat it. You could try, or you could do it Mog's way."

He looked over his shoulder at where Mog was bobbing, the lower half of his face splattered in chocolate. "I think I'll try it your way," he said, tongue darting out.

"Want to try mine?" she asked.

"I am," he said, tongue out, his reply coming out garbled.

She shook her head. "I meant my ice cream," she corrected, offering him her cone, topped with white.

"Sure," he said, trading her cones. He gave the vanilla ice cream a lick as she tried his mint chocolate chip. "This one's good, too," he told her honestly.

She continued to eat his ice cream long after he'd sampled hers. He just watched her, smile growing on his face.

She caught his eye and stopped, sheepishly. "I think I have a new favourite," she explained.

He paused for a moment. Ice cream cone in hand, he fixed her with a smile. "Then I hope this is a good memory for you, too."

Her expression shifted, softened. "Yeah," she said, "it is."

* * *

><p>He was sleeping.<p>

"Noel!"

But apparently Serah was bent on changing that.

"Noel!"

He rolled over. He sent her what was probably a tortured look. He was too tired to control his face properly. "Yes?"

She walked over and actually pulled at his arm - something he could have near-guaranteed she would not have done, say, ten days ago. There was something to be said for spending weeks in the company of only one other person. Well, and a moogle. But Mog was asleep. "Why aren't you waking Mog?" he asked groggily.

"Because this is a memory," she explained.

He inhaled deeply. He willed himself to stand. "Okay, I'm up. Let's see this," he acquiesced, stretching.

"Hurry," she urged him. He knew that she was purposely revving up some hysteria, but he fell for it anyway, shoving his feet quickly into his shoes.

Slowly waking, he let her lead them down the wide paths of the hunters' village. In the dark everything turned to shades of gray, even Serah's usually vibrant hair. Her hair, which she let down at night, swung freely in loose waves at the fast pace she set. She walked hurriedly, confidently, as if she'd made the way many times before. His eyes focused on her back. But then he was seeing her tights and her heels. Climbing the stairs.

He followed her, hands on the rails, steps creaking beneath their weight. Where were they going?

She looked back at him, as if reading his mind. "It's not too far now," she told him. Her voice echoed in the emptiness of the camp. They were probably the only two people awake right now, it was so early. There was an odd satisfaction in this realization - that for the next little while, it was just the two of them.

"I trust you," he joked weakly, then began to climb the next set of stairs. Were they going where he thought they were going? "Are we hijacking the weather machine?" He eyed the settings - clear skies.

She laughed freely, and at that he felt himself wake up just a little more. "No. But this is the spot," she said, gravitating to the edge of the planks. She turned to face east, and patted the spot next to her.

He sat. He sat for what felt like a long time, and Serah was a quiet presence beside him. The breeze stirred her hair, the occasional strand tickling his arm. She swung her legs over the edge of their perch. Everything was still awash in gray. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. He was waking up in small increments, and he was almost all the way there.

He almost jumped at the feel of her fingers on the underside of his wrist. He looked blankly at her hand - she wasn't wearing gloves. She squeezed lightly, other hand pointing straight ahead at the horizon. "Look," she said.

His gaze followed her arm all the way to a clearing between two mountaintops. The sky was tinted a lighter gray, and lightening still. He watched as it turned a powder blue, and then the sun broke from between the peaks, a sliver of pure white light. He let the sun hold his attention until it rose enough to bathe the sky in orange and yellow. The colour spilled into the valley, grass now green and water now blue.

He heard her breathe a sigh of wonder. He turned to her. Her lips were parted slightly, her breathing full and deep. Her hold on him tightened as the sun rose higher. He was definitely awake now. But he didn't take his gaze from her, preferring instead to watch the rising sun doubled in her eyes.

* * *

><p>"No!" he yelled, eyes wide in horror as he watched the behemoth slash Serah with its saw-like weapon. Her legs and arms were rag doll-like as it hit her square in the torso. She crumpled against the weight of it, falling noiselessly to the ground. Her sword clattered beside her. She didn't get up.<p>

He grit his teeth. The behemoth turned to him now, its mouth twisted into an ever-present snarl. He took it down with prejudice, watching Serah's limp body always in the corner of his eye.

He crashed into the ground at her side, stirring up a cloud of dust. He called her name, desperately hoping she was conscious, "Serah! _Serah!_" Mog hovered worriedly over her fallen form. As the dust cleared, he saw the full extent of her injury - a giant, gory gash along her side, from her hip to the last of her ribs. He clenched his jaw.

Her head lifted marginally. "Noel?"

Thank Etro, she was awake. "Serah, I'm going to heal you. Stay still," he told her, trying his best not to give away just how bad her injury was, how much it was affecting him.

"Mm," she replied. Mog floated down to her, pink jewel drooping. "It's okay, Mog," she assured the moogle. He could still hear the pain stitched between her words.

He readied the spells with shaky hands. Disinfect with esuna, down to the last millimetre. Cure the perimeter, work inward. These mantras warded away the thoughts that hung in his mind - _what if this isn't enough what if you can't help her what if she leaves you what if it's your fault_.

It took a long time, and even then he couldn't close the wound perfectly. A thin scar spanned the length of her side. A glaring flaw on her otherwise perfect skin.

"Noel?" she asked, sounding tired, thirsty.

He gave her the last of their water. He'd just spotted her knees. She'd scraped them while falling. He knelt over her again. "I'll heal your knees," he said simply, taking glowing magic to the shallow scrapes. Then he saw her elbows, and he took care of those next.

She remained silent. He kept quiet, too, mending broken skin. When he'd finished, she was only half-awake. He took her carefully up into his arms, where she finally fell asleep. He carried her back to the dig site, where everyone threw a fit, checked and double-checked her wounds. They woke her, they insisted she take a bath, they mended her clothes, and when everything had settled, they gave Serah and Noel their own tent to stay in overnight. There was no way they were traveling, not for at least a few days, everyone said.

Noel sat on one of the futons, quiet, waiting for Serah's return. Staring at his hands. Mog had long since fallen asleep.

When she parted the tent flaps and entered, looking tired but none the worse, he turned away from her. "Goodnight," he told her.

Wordlessly, she zipped the flaps shut, took her shoes off, and buried herself beneath the provided sheets. He listened to her settle in, heard her head rest against the pillow. Home safe.

And then he exhaled and let the tears hit his pillow. The glassy look in her eyes wouldn't leave his mind. The thought that it was because of him invaded every thought. Loss crept up on them today, nearly stole her away. When he crashed next to her those few hours ago, all he could hope for was warm skin and the rise and fall of her chest, for his efforts and hopes not to be in vain. He needed her to be alright.

Before long, he heard a rustle next to him. His eyes snapped open in the dark. She was draping her blanket over them both and curling up at his side. He looked down at her, eyes wide. She looked up at him, assuring him that this wasn't a dream. She gave him a small, very brief smile, then laid her head on his chest. She took his wrist, closed his arm around herself.

His thoughts stalled. His tears stopped. Her breath washed down his torso. He felt this etch itself deeply into his mind - the weight of her folded up against him, the smell of her mixing with the smell of him. He looked at her, thick eyelashes and high cheekbones from this angle, feeling the knots within him loosen. Serah, close enough to cloak every one of his senses, close enough to hold, just for the night - just for this night, the night after he almost didn't save her. He hugged her tighter, put his hand on top of hers. And that was how he fell asleep, the tears leaving no trace by morning.

* * *

><p>"Serah!"<p>

"What is it?" she called back to him, whipping around fast.

... And was met with a snowball to the shoulder.

She watched in mild disbelief as the snow slid down her bare arm in chunks. Then she looked up to see Noel, arm out, smiling wide. "Gotcha," he said.

Silently, she let her lips stretch out into a smile as well. Her eyes twinkled. With snow sprinkled in her hair and her teeth showing, he didn't think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful.

She was moving suddenly, packing snow between her gloved hands. "You better run," she threatened, shivering in the cold.

He didn't heed her warning, instead packing together his own ammunition. Mog decided he wanted no part of this, and took off into the barren trees.

She hit him with no mercy, firing off two snowballs at his back in quick succession. Her aim wasn't too bad when they were close, so he took off, putting distance between them. He hurled his own snowballs at her, hitting her legs and - it wasn't on purpose! - behind.

She let out a gasp, mouth falling open, but the delighted look never left her face. Scratch what he'd said. This was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. She retaliated, bent over at a snowbank and sprayed snow at him, but missed. "Get over here!" she commanded, running _at him_ in spite of what she'd said.

"No chance!" he laughed, sprinting through the snow. He bent over, scooping up more ammo, fingers red and approaching numb.

But she surprised him, doubling back and tackling him. They rolled over into a fresh bed of snow, leaving a messy trail in their wake, taking snow with them in their hair, wedged into the folds of their clothes. He ended up on his back. She ended up on top of him, arms still around his torso. They were both laughing breathlessly, little puffs of fog lifting into the air.

"Why'd you tackle me?" he asked her, still lying back in the snow.

She seemed just as unwilling to move. "No more snowballs," she answered. He felt her words, warm through the fabric of his shirt.

He sighed, then smushed his last snowball into her hair.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, sitting up, shaking the snow from her hair. It was considerably less warm without her on top of him. He sat up too.

"Sorry," he apologized, but there wasn't much heart in it. He was too happy to feel the right amount of regret. He brushed snow from her shoulder.

Her fingers wound through her wet hair. Even as she sat there dripping, she told him with a smile, "Don't be." She looked him in the eye, her own the perfect, icy shade of blue.

He was moving before he knew what was happening. His freezing hand on her cheek, he put his lips to hers. Not long after, he felt her cold hands on his shoulders. They breathed warm air into, at, for each other. He felt his temperature rising.

And then he knew that the setting, the place, the time never mattered. They would fade, they would fray. He would regain the feeling in his toes after this, and the smell of snow and earth would fade from his nose. The taste of mint chocolate chip would only echo in the other things he ate, and the sunrise would never be the same, no matter how many times he watched. It was her. Everything, all of it - the memories and the music and the magic were one, and they were in her.

She broke their kiss and rested her sopping bangs against his. "I was wondering when you were going to do that," she said.


End file.
